Two Engineers vs Three drunkards
by renovek
Summary: It was supposed to be a drink-filled first night of shore-leave, but thanks to three persistent drunks, things get a little on the crazy side for a pair of Scottish engineers.


Loud music blared from speakers and colorful lights swirled about the room, making the dancers seem like they were moving in slow motion at times. As Isis sat at the bar, her back turned toward the bartenders, she couldn't help but find the mix of uniformed Star Fleet officers and short-skirted clubbers dancing and drinking together a bit amusing. The song soon changed and she frowned slightly due to the bass being loud enough to make her bones rattle.

Spinning around on the seat, she lightly smacked the bar, the only way she could get the attention of a bartender. "Can I get a Jack Daniel's classic?" she called over the music.

"Need t' see some ID," he called back, his brow raised.

"Wha'? The uniform doesn't give it away?" she jokingly asked. It was well known throughout the quadrant that, if someone was wearing a Star Fleet uniform, they _had _to be over the age of twenty-one. Regardless, she pulled out a blue, transparent identification card and handed it over to him. After a moment, he handed it back and moved to grab a bottle and glass.

"Make tha' two classics, laddie." Isis glanced up, watching as Scotty sat down on the stool beside her. "Evenin', lass."

"Ahh, ya finally got the collision avoidance beacon fixed?" she inquired with a grin.

His brow rose and he smirked as their drinks came over. "Aye, an' no thanks t' my land-lovin' lieutenant," he joked, paying for his drink.

Isis paid for her drink as well. "Excuse me, sir? You're the one who bloody well told me ya had it under control." She chuckled as she downed half of the whiskey.

Scotty laughed before draining his glass. "Dinnae mean I couldn't have used the help. But, naw, wasn't too hard –just had to uncross some wires an' cross others." Isis knew that there had to have been more to it than that –the blast from the Romulan War Bird had left quite a dent in that part of the _Enterprise. _He motioned to the bartender for another round for the both of them. "Though, it was a wee bit hard t' squeeze in there, bein' that I'm not a four-foot-five tribble."

Rolling her eyes, she laughed and took another drink of the whiskey. "Ya could o' sent Keenser in, ya know. Where is the wee lad anyway?" She glanced up at her higher-up.

"His day off." He drank half his whiskey. "Ach well. I managed without the both o' you. I should get some sort o' bloody award for that, really."

"Ya should get one for bein' able t' deal with Kirk as our cap'n," she teased.

When his glass was refilled, he picked it up and raised it in a small toast. "I'll drink t' that."

She toasted as well and took a drink. "Did ya use the hyperspanner like I suggested?" she inquired, setting the glass down.

He blew a raspberry. "Why would I use such a numpty intrustment? I used the interphasic compensator."

She lightly shrugged, finishing her whiskey. "Well, the hyperspanner would have been good t' use because it can dampen any trigger frequencies if you're messin' around with communication lines."

Scotty nodded in understanding. "I see where you're comin' from, lass, but once I got into the compartment, I didn't have t' worry 'bout that –turns out, the communication lines weren't down. It was the proximity radar readers that were shorted out. Some o' them were even fused together. Ach, it was a mess in there."

"Certainly sounds like it, sir."

"Aye. I'll show ya when we get back t' the ship –if we're not too pished, o' course."

At that, Isis laughed. "Are ya jokin'? Get us pished an' we'll be takin' the engine apart an' puttin' her back t'gether, sir."

"On the ceilin' t' boot."

"Ach, I like the sound o' that!" she laughed. "How many drinks do ya think it'd take for us t' actually start tryin' that?"

Scotty was quiet for a moment; looking into his glass, he swirled the remnants of alcohol in the bottom before grinning. "It'd take around half the bar for me…probably three more for you."

"Oh get tae, sir! I may be small, but I can hold my liquor! _An' _I had a full meal before comin' here."

"Smarter 'n half the crew here."

Isis laughed before turning to the bartender. "An Andorian Ice-ball, please."

Scotty's brow rose. "Really, lass? That'll have you on your arse in no time."

"Ya act like I didn't room with an Andorian for four years." As the triangular glass arrived, she grinned, watching as mist poured out of the top. "Ice-balls were a common drink in our dorm."

He watched, amused, as she unflinchingly took a drink from the glass. Upon setting it down, Scotty could see that her lips were left much paler than before and the fog billowed out of her mouth; the Andorian alcohol was well-known for being extraordinarily cold. "You're going t' need a Solar Flare after that, lass," he mused, getting himself a Long Island Iced Tea. His cheeks were only just starting to turn pink

Isis grinned broadly at him, her own face having turned a light shade of pink. "It's the perfect chaser." She was about to take another drink when a man slid between her and Scotty; she didn't see them, but she sensed two more appear to her left.

"Hey there," the first man grinned, trying to sound smooth. "You on shore-leave like the rest?"

Her brow rose, unimpressed. "Aye, I am. Though, if you'd be so kind as t' move; I was havin' a conversation."

He had no inclination of moving, however. "What ship you from? The USS Attractive?"

She rolled her eyes. "NCC-1701 an' if ya don't know what ship she is, then you're not my type. Sorry, boyo."

The man leaned over as she moved to finish her Andorian Ice-Ball. "Aw, c'mon. You seem like you need a night o' hot passion to loosen up that tight attitude of yours."

The glass still at her lips, Isis slowly finished the drink. Scotty could feel the fury and repulsion radiating from her. He set his glass down and made to stand up, but before he could, Isis faced the man, blowing the captured fog from her mouth into his face.

"I've told ya, eejit, that I'm not interested in ya, so I suggest ya try your pathetic attempts at wooing on some other lass," she warned.

"An' if you don't leave her alone, I'll make ya regret it," Scotty warned, ignoring the daring 'Oohs' coming from the bloke's companions.

Looking at him, the man stood up straight. "Who're you then? Her boyfriend?" He looked Scotty over before snorting. "Aren't you a little old to be datin' cuties like her?"

"I'm her commanding officer," he replied, his voice stern, "so I suggest you _leave her alone_, lad."

The man snickered. "If you're down here, then that means you're off duty," he daringly told him. "Means you've got no authority over me." He stood up straight, standing a few inches taller than Scotty.

Scotty, however, was not intimidated. He straightened as well, staring straight into the man's eyes. "I've got more authority in my wee pinky finger than you'll ever have in your whole life, ya boggin numpty."

Isis hopped off of her stool and lightly grabbed Scotty's arm. "Sir, not here," she told him, her voice firm. She glanced between him and the three males. "There are other drinkin' establishments –quieter ones at that." Lightly tugging on his arm, she started to lead him away from the confrontation, though she added –just loud enough for the males to hear-, "Anyway, I doubt these blokes could take ya."

He frowned, his brow rising as he leaned down closer to her ear. "What're you doin', lass? I was itchin' for a good, ol' fashioned brawl!" Despite his words, he continued to follow behind the small woman.

"Glance over your shoulder, but don't make it too obvious," she instructed. Peeking up at him, she watched as he subtly looked over his shoulder, his brows rising as he saw the three men –two humans and a liberated Skagaran- slowly following after them. "We're goin' t' get our brawl."

"'Our' brawl?" He cocked his brow again. "Sorry lass, but as your commanding officer, I cannae allow ya t' do such a thing-" He was suddenly silenced as she pressed her hat into his chest.

"One: you're off duty. Two: did ya _not _hear the shite tha' came from his maw?" She started to make quick work of braiding her curly hair. "I ain't lettin' that sheep-shagger get away with talkin' t' me like that." Finishing the braid, she tucked it into the back of her jacket.

Scotty shook his head, plopping her head back on her head as they stepped outside. Brushing past a few people entering the club, he risked another look over his shoulder, seeing that they were still being pursued. "Isis, you're four-foot-five an' less than a hundred pounds-"

"A hundred an' eight!"

"-You would get beaten to a pulp! I simply _cannae _allow ya t' do this."

"Again, I roomed with a security officer at academy. She taught me defense, I taught her how t' make scones. And, sir –three against one? Those odds aren't pretty. Oooh, that one bloke is _angry_…Don't think he liked you calling him a numpty."

Before Scotty could inquire as to _how_ angry the fellow was, his shoulder was grabbed and he was forcibly spun around.

"You have some nerve calling me names like that!" the man snarled. He then pointed at Isis. "I'm goin' to send you and your pathetic boyfriend here back to your heap of space junk as a bloody-" He doubled over in pain and stumbled back; on his jacket was a dusty, white boot print from Isis' boot.

"There are two things ya never do in front o' a member o' Star Fleet," she mused, lowering her foot. "The first is insultin' her commandin' officer an' the second is insultin' her ship. Guess what? Ya did both, ya feckin' muppet."

The other human growled and lunged for her while the Skagaran went for Scotty.

* * *

An hour later, both Isis and Scotty were sitting in the medical bay as they were tended to by Bones and Isis' brother, Taavetti. Isis was wincing slightly as Taavetti cleaned out her particularly bad scrapped knee while Scotty was having the bones in his left hand slowly healed by Doctor McCoy. Captain Kirk stood in front of them, arms crossed and a mixture of disappointment and amusement written on his face.

"So…let me get this straight," he began. "You two were enjoying a drink at the club when these three guys walk up and start hitting on Isis-"

"Just one o' them hit on me, sir, an' none too well," Isis corrected.

"-So, Scotty tries to pull rank on them, since he is a lieutenant-command, but they use the defense of him being off duty. A fight nearly breaks out, but Isis stops it and drags Scotty away, avoiding confrontation."

The two of them nodded.

"But they followed you."

"Aye, sir," they chorused. Isis quietly hissed as liquid bandage was smeared over her knee.

"And proceeded to harass you _and _call the _Enterprise _a 'heap of space junk'."

"Aye, sir." Scotty cursed loudly and flinched as McCoy was forced to realign a set of bones before letting the ultrasonic device begin the mending process.

"And then Isis threw the first punch."

"Kick, actually. Frankly, I think you would have been proud o' it, sir; it was a lovely roundhouse-" She fell silent as she received a sharp mental scolding from her brother.

"'Least we won," Scotty muttered under his breath.

Rubbing his forehead, Kirk took everyone by surprise when he started to chuckle. "You know, I wouldn't believe a word of this if it hadn't been witnessed by at least a dozen people." He looked up at the two of them again. "No offense, but the two of you really aren't the most physically capable members of the crew."

Isis straightened up, about to protest to this notion, but Scotty beat her to it. "Excuse me, captain, but the two o' us are constantly runnin' around that massive engine room, tryin' keep up with all o' the repair work from the battles _you_ get us into. I think we're a teensy bit better off physicality wise from the constant cardio."

McCoy and Taavetti couldn't help but quietly snicker at his response. Kirk, however, raised his brow and grinned, shaking his head. "I wish I could let the two of you off for this," he admitted, "but should Mister Spock happen to hear of such an altercation, he won't shut up about the rules and regulations…So I'm going to have to give you both three days of unpaid leave."

"That's fortuitous for Scotty here," McCoy piped up. "Three days is the maximum amount of time needed for these bones to finish healing."

"I told him t' strike the bloke's face with his palm, not his fist," Isis sighed. "Did he listen? Nooo…"

"It's a wee bit hard t' listen when you've got fists flyin' towards your face, lassie," he scolded.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't have that problem."

"O' course you don't, ya wee tribble…"


End file.
